


Regret, Hope and Ruin

by Lyneea, Menecairiel



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-23 09:31:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13784649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyneea/pseuds/Lyneea, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Menecairiel/pseuds/Menecairiel
Summary: When the Accords lead to every enhanced and mutant having to register, all involved realise that sometimes the laws have to be broken in order to fight the good fight.





	1. Even Deeper

**Author's Note:**

> Co-written by the talented Lyneea some years ago. A lot of characters and a lot of confusion, but hopefully still enjoyable!

_And in a dream I'm a different me_  
_With a perfect you_  
_We fit perfectly_  
_And for once in my life I feel complete - Nine Inch Nails, 'Even Deeper'_

 

* * *

 

There was a flash of something close to pain as the arm was fitted. But Bucky Barnes just stared ahead, jaw tense as the technician worked on it, overseen by the doctor. They had completely removed the mangled remains of the metal arm  and reattached the new one...made out of vibranium, as a gift from the King. Gift, or apology and recognition. Bucky wasn't sure. He let out a breath as he was asked to move his fingers and did so, carefully, finding the arm obeying him. When he made a fist, the plates made soft little sounds, shifting. If anything, this arm seemed stronger, more forceful, and yet lighter. He could feel the lack of pain in his back, where the arm would usually have been pulling.   
  
Steve had been watching from the window, having been told to stay away during the procedure. Seeing the flash of pain on his face though...he moved forward, letting himself into the room and moving closer. "How does it feel?"  
  
"Different...but also the same..." he said and let out a breath, watching Steve with dark eyes. "Strong. It feels strong." He stood, not caring about the wires monitoring everything. He rolled his shoulders for a moment before he reached to touch Steve's arm with his new one. Reaching out and touching his best friend, his mind clear, his eyes on the other man…somehow, for a second, it felt as if he was…  
  
_Home. Belonging. Safe._  
  
It was a strange feeling for Bucky Barnes to feel that again.  
  
Steve looked to the hand with a small smile, relaxing at seeing the pain gone. He reached to touch it, feeling up it with a chuckle. "Feels stronger..." he nodded gently. It was a familiar feel, the metal.  
  
"Like your shield was," Bucky whispered softly, searching his eyes before he nodded. He looked over at the doctors before reaching to pull the wires off. "I'm fine. But I am done being a lab rat for a day."  
  
Steve's hand remained on the metal a moment longer, caressing, having missed the feel of the metal. "We need to make sure that you have adapted to it..." the doctor moved closer, frowning with concern as he reached out for him.  
  
"He'll be fine," Steve assured him with a soft nod, smiling gently as he walked with Bucky. "He heals quickly..." he added with wry humour.  
  
Bucky smiled, nodding before looking over at the doctor. "You know, a shirt would be nice. And some trousers..." he looked down at the boxers he wore. And nothing else. Bare feet, bare chest. His hair had been tied back from his face for this and he reached back to pull the hairband out, flexing his fingers and spreading them to make the dark band slide from the tips of his fingers down his and to his wrist.  
  
The doctor watched him for a long moment, sighing before shaking his head. Who could win a battle against them? He moved to get some training clothes for him, laying them out. "If you have problems with it, you must come back," he said firmly.  
  
"I will," Bucky promised and reached for the clothes. He got dressed, glancing over at Steve. "Will you tell me what I missed?" he asked Steve, fastening the buttons of the jeans before pulling the tee shirt on. He took in a quick breath. Steve. It smelled like Steve’s clothes. But this Steve, this healthy Steve, not sicky little Stevie who struggled to breathe and whose sweat always had a sour twinge to it.  
  
"We have been having a rest too," Steve said with a wry smile as he led him out to the living areas of the large complex that belonged to T'Challa. "Well, in relative terms...."  
  
Bucky looked around, taking it in as he walked beside him. "It is beautiful here. A bit hot..." he looked at Steve, studying him, just taking him in. "They broke the hold. They tested the...words. Nothing happened, not even a twinge." Which had surprised him. He had been so scared when the words had been spoken, emotionally a wreck. And yet the woman had just smiled to him as she had said all the trigger words. She had known. She had known she had cured him.  
  
The relief was clear on Steve's face, even as he tried to hide it with an easy smile. "You're strong. Always have been."  
  
"Not always," Bucky breathed before he glanced away, realising he was staring at his face. "I wasn't always strong there. Not when I was...me." And it was a shameful thing to admit for him, one that made him duck his head and turn his face away from Steve.  
  
Steve glanced to him with a frown, stopping as he touched his arm softly to make him stop with him. "That's when you were strongest."  
  
Reluctantly Bucky met his eyes, his own dark as he watched him before he let out a soft breath. "No," he said before he smiled. "But that was when I was me."  
  
"That's why you were strongest," Steve said quietly, holding his eyes. "Being you....in that nightmare."  
  
Bucky reached out, gripping his shoulder before he frowned. "I'm sorry about Peggy," he finally said. "She was a fine dame." Because he had seen how Steve had looked at Agent Peggy Carter and how she had looked at him while wearing the knock-out red dress. There had been love. A lot of love. And Bucky, while envious, had been happy for Steve. Steve could have settled down after the war. Have kids. A nice house somewhere.  
  
Steve smiled softly at that, aching with it. "She was. She really was..." he looked out of the window with a frown. It hurt...that she had started Shield, and they had destroyed her good, honest work.  
  
Bucky reached to touch his cheek, stroking it tenderly. "And she had a good life. She did a lot. She did a lot of good."  
  
Steve looked back to him at that before smiling gently. "Yes," he said softly, holding his eyes. "She did. I think it was meant to be...you know....us never getting the chance to be together."  
  
"You warmed her heart for someone else," Bucky pulled back, chuckling. "Although you kissing her niece...smooth..." he made a face, his eyes warm as he watched him. Someone had to take the piss.  
  
Steve laughed softly at that, his eyes shining as he blushed, walking at his side. "It had been a long time," he admitted.  
  
"Clearly..." Bucky breathed, shaking his head as he chuckled. "Longer for me though, who would have thought that."  
  
"Not me," Steve admitted, laughing softly as he watched him, something easing inside of him, at the easy teasing. It felt...like old times. "The arm suits you..."  
  
Bucky glanced at it, smiling weakly. "I suppose it does," he said after a moment. "It feels...normal. To me." He tightened the metal hand into a fist, watching what he was doing, tilting his head.  
  
Steve reached to touch it, to feel down it. "And it packs one hell of a punch...."  
  
Bucky stopped, letting Steve touch, his eyes gentle as he studied him. "I've missed you," he whispered softly. "When I was hiding and it all came back, I...I missed you." The words were difficult to get out, but honest. One of the most honest things he had said in years.  
  
Steve met his eyes with surprise at the words, searching them. He was relieved he'd said it...it made him feel a little less meek for wanting to say it too. "I missed you too, Buck. More than I can say."  
  
Bucky smiled at that before he nodded, reaching to touch his arm. "Want to grab a beer?" he asked softly, with hope. Something normal. That they used to do before. A long time ago. He couldn’t even remember what a beer tasted like anymore.  
  
Steve’s smile widened at that as he nodded, squeezing his arm to lead him to the kitchen to find one. "It's not quite the same though."  
  
Bucky nodded at that, smiling weakly as they walked. "I found myself thinking about the food we used to eat. Do you remember that Deli we'd sometimes go to, the one where we'd stand and wait for an hour and you'd get a sandwich you'd eat four bites of before you were full?"  
  
Colour actually came to Steve’s cheeks at that and he chuckled, shaking his head as he pulled the bottles out of the fridge. "And you'd roll your eyes at me...but secretly loved it, I should imagine, because you got to finish it."  
  
"I did," Bucky smiled warmly at the memory, chuckling to himself. "And we would sit and chat and joke...hours spent contemplating life over coffee."  
  
Steve led him to his room without thinking about it, smiling softly as he watched him with awe at the memories. "Real coffee," he whispered.  
  
Bucky followed, a small smile on his lips. "Black. Strong. The sort that made you grimace on the first sip...or when it got cold," he stopped and looked around the room, taking it in.  
  
Steve watched him, holding his breath for a moment. "I...don't have much of my own here," he admitted softly, pulling the chairs to the window so they could enjoy the view as they drank their beer.  
  
"I don't even have the clothes on my back," Bucky said and smiled as he sat down, before the smile faded as he watched Steve. "How...how are you?"  
  
Steve watched his face as he sipped his beer, leaning to him. "Better for seeing you again," he admitted. "I...understand why you wanted to be frozen, but...well...I'd just got you back."  
  
"I know, but I was hurting people," Bucky said and took his own beer to drink. "And not in control."  
  
"It wasn't you," Steve said quietly, shaking his head. "I understand, Buck, I understand why you wanted to go under. That kind of selflessness proves you were back," he whispered, touching his cheek.  
  
Bucky leant into the touch, closing his eyes for a moment at feeling the strong hand against his face. Strange. It was still the delicate fingers, just…he was stronger. "You saved me," he whispered quietly. "Not just from the water or everything...you saved me from your friend."  
  
Steve swallowed hard at that. It had hurt, having to choose, having to fight people he considered friends and comrades. Even Tony, who ha always butted his heads with him, it had only made him respect him more, when he stood up to him...even when he was wrong. "I can't count the number of times you saved me," he said quietly.  
  
Bucky watched him before he touched his leg, squeezing it. "That was a long time ago," he whispered to Steve. "And I've done so much wrong since then..." he tilted his head, studying him. "I'm sorry."  
  
"Don't be," Steve said firmly, holding his eyes. "Please, don't be sorry, Bucky. It wasn't your fault. Any of it," he whispered, his eyes redening. It was his own fault. For letting him fall.   
  
Bucky watched his face before shaking his head. He saw the way his eyes reddened and put his beer down, reaching for the back of his neck to pull him close, so that Steve's head rested against his shoulder. "I'm sorry for how it all went with your friends," he whispered against his ear. "I'm sorry for the pain that I caused. I'm not sorry for being here with you now."  
  
"It's not your fault," Steve whispered, his hand resting on his waist as he closed his eyes. "We weren't fighting over you. We were fighting over what was right. And even if we were...you were a victim in it all. Even T'Challa saw it."  
  
Bucky stroked over his hair before smiling weakly, kissing his hair. "You've always fought for what was right."  
  
Steve smiled weakly at that, his hand lifting to stroke over the hand in his hair. "Even when I couldn't fight?" he remembered those days too well. When Bucky had to help him all the time.   
  
Bucky watched him before nodded, smiling gently before nodding. "Even then. Always been a fighter...little kid from Brooklyn."  
  
Steve lifted his head enough to watch him at that, a small smile coming to him. "Wanted to be like my best friend."  
  
Bucky held his eyes for a moment before he let out a breath. "You never had to change, you were pretty perfect the way you were. Good. Kind. Generous. Strong. So you shouldn't have tried to be like me." Especially now. Now that Bucky was tainted by what he had done, what he had become.  
  
"Fighting for my country was the right thing to do. Fighting evil was the right thing to do. And they wouldn't let me," Steve held his eyes for a long moment.  
  
Bucky touched his cheek at that before he kissed his forehead. "I suppose not. Captain America..." he shook his head slowly, still...getting used to it. This was Steve to him. The man on the bridge that broke through that careful programming they had done in his head.  
  
Steve just watched his face, taking it all in as he ran his thumb over his cheekbone. "And you weren't there to tell me it as a stupid idea," he chuckled softly. "You were doing the things I wanted to do...out there alone. And I didn't want you to be out there alone."  
  
Bucky leant into the touch before smiling, shaking his head for a moment. "You were always with me out there. I'd be like 'what would Steve say'...and sort of go from there. My moral compass."  
  
Steve chuckled softly, shaking his head as he searched his eyes. "Should talk to people who know me. They'd tell you how wrong I am, especially recently."  
  
Bucky shook his head and pulled back, just watching him. "It worked back then for me," he said quietly. "When I was unsure, when I was staring down the barrel of a machine gun. What would Steve do? And I took it from there."  
  
"Steve would have taken better care of you," Steve said quietly, watching his face. "Steve should have taken better care of you."  
  
"Steve saved me," Bucky said before reaching out to rough his hair up. "Again and again. And now...I...I can start atoning for what I've done."      
  
"It wasn't you, it was them," Steve whispered. As if he needed any more reason to hate Hydra. He searched his eyes. He would feel the same though. "Let me help you."  
  
"I need it," Bucky said with a warm smile, holding his eyes before nodding. He let out a breath as he looked around, taking in the room. "So this is our new home, right? Can't go out of here, if I do they'll kill me."  
  
"Things have changed," Steve shook his head, meeting his eyes. "They know the truth now. They know it wasn't you, they have the real man in prison," he frowned, looking down. "Someone we hurt...and you were hurt in the crossfire as a consequence," he met his eyes with regret. What he owed Bucky was piling up. "The rest of our team is here too. Well, mostly. We're still technically criminals....we still refuse to sign. So we've been helping T'Challa, to thank him for this refuge."  
  
"Can I help?" Bucky asked softly, searching his eyes for a moment. "I want to. Look, I'll do anything. Build. Clean." Anything to feel as if he could do something. He was learning a lot about Wakanda, but he was also slowly losing what little was left of his mind from not being active.  
  
"We hoped you'd join the team," Steve said honestly, searching his eyes. "If you'd be willing to fight? Bucky, you're good..."  
  
"I..." Bucky hesitated before he searched his eyes. It would be with Steve. And Steve was...a good man. He trusted him. And he wanted to be there to watch his back. "If the team would have me, then yeah."  
  
"They want you....even Sam..." Steve smiled at that, his eyes shining as he chuckled.  
  
Bucky chuckled warmly as he nodded. "He's not that bad..." he finally said softly. Because Sam was a good man. Annoying. Rubbed him the wrong way. So Bucky liked him. Because he was the only one who wasn’t treating him like he was broken.  
  
Steve smiled warmly as he looked down, nodding. "You know, he's been there every step since I found you were alive," he said softly. "He's helped me get to you, even when people were shooting at us for it."  
  
"Yeah, he's an idiot," Bucky said with a straight face before grinning, his eyes shining.  
  
Steve laughed with him, watching him with warmth. "I think he was looking for another family," he admitted. "He lost his partner. Out in the field. Helping us gave him the chance to fly again. To fight again.  
  
Bucky nodded as he watched him, taking a slow breath. And it was easy to trust Steve, to fight beside him. To sacrifice for him. "So...who else is here?" he asked gently, reaching for his beer again.  
  
"Clint...Hawkeye," Steve added, unsure how much he remembered and who he remembered. "I think he's more angry at Tony than I ever was. Sam's still here, you'll be pleased to know..." he chuckled softly. "T'Challa, obviously...he might have been fighting with Tony, but...well, he's changed his mind after finding out the truth, and he no longer believes in signing, not after everything that happened, at seeing how easily they were manipulated. The Ant-Man has gone back to work with Pym, who is more than happy to keep him away from Tony," he shook his head with a sigh. "And Wanda's still here, but she doesn't want to fight. So she's rebuilding.....which telekinesis comes in very handy for, so I hear."  
  
"I can't blame her," Bucky admitted softly, searching his eyes. "She's so young, she needs...to get used to her own skin."  
  
"I know. It was difficult enough to deal with normal life at that age, let alone those powers," Steve smiled weakly, watching him. "She felt....so bad after those people were killed by that bomb. But...she did it to save me. She has that instinct to work as a team. I hope she feels ready to do it again someday."  
  
"She will be," Bucky stood and watched him, reaching to touch his hair for a moment, looking thoughtful. "She just needs time. There's nothing wrong with needing time."  
  
"True," Steve smiled softly as he looked up to him. "In the mean time, I try and be a good friend for her. Sam is too, they get on well. Even T'Challa has warmed to her. I think he sees how sorry she really is. We're safe so long as we stay here. But....we can't stay here forever."  
  
"No, we can't," Bucky agreed before smiling as he glanced to the door. "Do they have food here? I'm...hungry." It was strange, but he was really hungry, for the first time since he had regained himself.  
  
Steve grinned at that, unable to help it. It was the most Bucky thing he could have said. "Come on, they have a whole kitchen full..." he led him out. "They even have normal food instead of....well, stuff I've never seen before."  
  
Bucky followed him easily, smiling as he watched him. "We are in an African country, of course there's food we would never have seen...and we're like...70 years out of date."  
  
"There's food I've never seen in New York," he laughed, shaking his head. "It's me out of place. Help yourself...I'm pretty sure I saw steak in the fridge..."  
  
Bucky smiled warmly as he moved to the fridge, opening it. He looked through it, smiling as he found the steak and mushrooms. He looked around and found cheese and onions as well, and soft bread rolls. T’Challa clearly had tried to cater to Steve’s tastes rather than what his people usually ate. Without even thinking about it he got the chopping board, staring to cut it all up. This was something he could do, memories of cooking for him and Steve back in the day. It had impressed the ladies, that he was able to make them breakfast.  
  
Steve watched with warmth, letting him do it...he wanted to, so he could watch him. "Might have to make me a bigger portion these days."  
  
"What, you will finish it?" Bucky asked and smiled as he got the pan hot, staring to fry it all together. He added salt and pepper, ignoring the other weirdly named spices he had never heard about. He got the rolls ready, finding mustard to put on before putting the cheese on. He continued to fry the mix, knowing what colour he wanted it. Proper cooked.  
  
"It's one of the biggest differences I noticed," Steve admitted softly, holding his eyes. "How much I need to eat."  
  
"You burn a lot," Bucky whispered as he glanced over at him. "All those muscles, all that strength...it comes at that cost. I'm making enough to feed two supersoldiers, don't worry..."  
  
"Maybe we're more alike now than we ever were," Steve said softly, watching him fondly.  
  
Bucky smiled as he nodded, taking the mixture and putting it on the rolls before turning the hob off. The words made the smile fade though, but he was turned away from Steve. He hoped not. He didn’t want Steve to have changed too much. He took a breath, gathering his feelings, and smiled as he carried it to the table, putting it down. "Physically at least, Steve..." he sat down, holding his eyes.  
  
Steve put more beer on the table, sitting close to him with a small smile. He took hold of the sandwich, taking a bite and closing his eyes with a soft moan. "No one does it like you do."  
  
Bucky grinned before taking a bite, moaning as well. "It's...good to see you eat," he said after a moment. It brought back memories of when he hadn't been well.  
  
Steve smiled weakly as he watched him, letting out a soft breath. "It's good to enjoy it," he admitted quietly. "Regret not being able to get drunk though."  
  
Bucky nodded in agreement, smiling as he watched him. "Well, you never really enjoyed it anyway...not that I remember."  
  
"I enjoyed what I could eat...it just then became a battle to eat more," Steve admitted with a chuckle, looking down. "I thought if I could eat more when I was young that I could grow bigger."  
  
Bucky watched him before a wicked smile came to him. "Instead an injection later...tada..."  
  
Steve laughed softly at that, watching him with a fond smile. "Bucky...if you'd have had the choice...would you have done it?"  
  
Bucky looked at him before smiling weakly, holding his eyes. "Truthfully? I don't know. Never liked doctors, me." He took a bite, considering it properly. "Besides, I...take things as they come."  
  
"True," he smiled softly, sipping his beer. It was what he had always liked about him. How in the moment he was. But still there when he'd needed him.  
  
Bucky smiled as he ate, closing his eyes. He had been so hungry. Strange, really. He kept glancing at Steve, taking him in. Strong Steve. Powerful. Beautiful. He washed the last bite down with some beer, taking a deeper breath.  
  
Steve did the same, watching him now and then as he ate, enjoying the food he was used to as well as the company. "It's been wrong without you," he finally said.  
  
Bucky frowned as he watched him, shaking his head. "You...had friends," he said softly. "Still do."  
  
"Missed you all," Steve whispered, searching his face before smiling weakly. "I...sent Tony a letter. I hope it's...mended something at least."  
  
Bucky nodded gently, studying him. "I hope so too," he said and frowned, looking away. He understood it though. He understood why Tony had done what he had done when he found out.  
  
Steve reached out to take a hold of his hand. "He's angry at me really," he said quietly.  
  
Bucky took the hand, watching him before shaking his head. "He is angry with it all, Steve. But I'd kill whoever killed you too, so..."  
  
"I had no where else to look but myself when you died," Steve said quietly, frowning as he looked down. "Sorry..."  
  
Bucky swallowed as he reached out, stroking over his cheek. "Steve...no, that wasn't on you," he said and stood, moving to him to stroke his hair and watch his face.  
  
Steve leant into the hand, searching his eyes for a long moment. "I led the commandos out there. I should never have let you go on such dangerous missions...and I should never have let you fall. Ever. What's the point of all this if I can't even...." he shook his head, looking away.  
  
Bucky pulled him close to hug him, stroking over the back of his neck. "Because sometimes, people die. People you love," he whispered softly. "And it is about moving on, going forward. You never did. You are still stuck there on the train, reaching for me..." he frowned and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "I'm here. I'm here now, I am okay, Steve. I promise...it's okay now. You and me, we got each other again. I got your back. Always. And I went there because I wanted to. I wanted to go...and you of all people understand that."  
  
Steve closed his eyes as he cried, holding onto him tightly, his hands clutching as he pressed his face to his hair. "I do....I do, Bucky. I'm just so sorry for it all. And you're right...I was stuck on that train. But I couldn't.....I can't.....not without you."  
  
Bucky frowned as he held him tightly, stroking over his back. "Shh..." he leant close and kissed his ear. "I'm here. I'm here...you have me," he whispered and pressed a kiss to his temple. "Stop being sorry for what happened, it...it is done. We are here."  
  
Steve held onto him tightly, his breath shaking as he turned his face to his, to let his cheek touch to his. "It makes me the luckiest man on God's earth."  
  
Bucky smiled at that, nodding before he stroked the blond hair, caressing over it. "So...we get you off the train," he said and his hand gripped Steve's, holding on firmly.  
  
Steve held it tightly in return, linking their fingers as he let out a soft breath. "It may take awhile, I dreamt of it often," he whispered. "It was all I had to hold on to you. Now....I have you though. The real you."  
  
Bucky watched him before nodding, watching his face. "Let me stay with you, tonight. Maybe me being there stops the dreams."  
  
Steve swallowed, searching his eyes before nodding. "I...I'd like that," he admitted softly, squeezing his hands.  
  
Bucky nodded before smiling, leaning close to hug him. "I'd like it too, Steve," he whispered, stroking over his strong back.  
  
Steve smiled at that, an almost shy smile that made him look more like his old self. "We can pretend it's Brooklyn," he whispered.  
  
Bucky nodded, touching his cheek before drying his tears, taking a slow breath. "We should. I...just want a bit of the past now."  
  
Steve watched him for a long moment, searching his eyes before leaning to press a kiss to his forehead.  
  
Bucky closed his eyes at the feeling, a soft breath escaping. And maybe, if they had a little bit of the past, Bucky Barnes could pretend the last decades hadn’t happened, that he hadn’t been drenched in the blood of those who he had killed as the Winter Soldier.

 

* * *

 


	2. Love In Strange Places

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint Barton tries to find himself in Wakanda. Luckily, he has friends.

_"When you gonna make up your mind?_  
When you gonna love you as much as I do?  
When you gonna make up your mind?  
'Cause things are gonna change so fast"  - Tori Amos, 'Winter'

* * *

 

Roscoe smiled as he walked through the building, in black trousers and a black shirt with a jacket. It was almost like a uniform for anyone who did security though. And he did. Security. Medical if he had to. He was a man of average height with green eyes and dark blond hair...older, because he had worked for a living before becoming a mercenary. But after T'Challa had hired him, he had been pretty steady. Especially since their guests had arrived. The Avengers. Well. Some of them. And while some had been suspicious and other star struck, he had just taken it for what it was. They were people in hiding, who most likely felt bloody isolated. He couldn't blame them, he knew the feeling. He headed to the gym on instinct. It was almost lunchtime after all and he had a regular partner for that.  
  
Clint was facing away from the man as he entered, stripped down to the waist, his hands gripping the bar as he pulled himself up swiftly in a set of pull-ups, sweat glistening on his skin from the effort. This might be easy for some of the other Avengers, but he was just a normal guy...one that was getting older too.  
  
He watched him, taking in how Clint looked with a small smile before moving over to him. "Hey Barton...it's lunchtime," he said, running his eyes over the man.  
  
Clint jumped down, catching his breath as he looked to him with surprise. "Hey...sorry, must have lost track of time."  
  
Roscoe nodded with a warm smile, crossing his arm. "Yeah, I can see that. But you must be hungry by now...after exercising so much."  
  
"Might put it all to waste though," he grinned, shaking his head as he grabbed the towel to dry himself off. "How you doing, Ro?"  
  
"Alright," he gave a nod, his eyes shining as he smiled. "Trying not to get sunburned as usual. Oh. And Barnes got his new arm today."  
  
"Good," Clint gave a small smile to that, looking down. The man had been through a rough time. Forced to hurt others against his will...and then blamed for it after by pretty much everyone apart from the Cap. He felt for him. "About time."  
  
Roscoe nodded gently, his eyes warm as he studied him. "He seems steady too," he said quietly. "Now they've fixed his head."  
  
"I'm glad," Clint admitted quietly, pulling his tshirt back on. "He didn't ask for any of that to happen. He was a Howling Commando."     
  
Roscoe nodded at the words, studying him before looking down. "Bad shit happens to good people more often than bad shit happens to bad people."  
  
Clint watched him, a small smile coming to him. "A regular glass full guy, huh?" he teased, nudging him fondly.  
  
"English," he said softly, with warmth as he nodded. "Besides, sometimes good guys come and kick their arses."  
  
"Unless they're too old and stiff to be able to," Clint chuckled, motioning to the bars. "It takes a lot to keep up with these enhanced types. I think they forget that sometimes."  
  
Roscoe gave a small smile at that, nodding as he shrugged. "But you're fit and have managed to keep up so far. And you are the most incredible archer I have seen."  
  
Clint was mortified to feel a slight blush reach his skin. What the hell? Ro would be taking the piss out of him for weeks. "Just sort of happened," he said quietly. "Lunch?"  
  
"Yes," Roscoe said and smiled, reaching out and slapping his shoulder. "Come along then...I hear there's some good stuff there today that I can pronounce."  
  
"Eggs and bacon?" Clint teased with a grin, remembering the rant Ro had had a little while back about just wanting a 'fry up'.  
  
"Maybe...who knows, right?" Roscoe smiled as he walked with him, shaking his head. "I'm a man of simple needs..."  
  
"The way I like it," Clint glanced to him with an easy smiled before looking down, clearing his throat as they walked. "Anything I should know about going on?"  
  
Roscoe shook his head before smiling as he watched him. "Not right now. Everything seems...alright at the moment. Steady. If you want to, you had the new Avengers on the news earlier, doing something heroic...but I know it isn't your cuppa anymore."  
  
Clint’s jaw tightened at that and he held his breath, shaking his head. "I don't know how they can even call themselves that with a straight fucking face."  
  
Roscoe reached out, touching his back. "It's a recognisable name. They'll keep using it," he whispered softly.  
  
"Yeah, well, guess their arrogant enough to believe it," Clint shook his head with a frown.  
  
"Or contracted," Roscoe said lightly with a smile as he led him to what he affectionately called the cafeteria. It was large, where the workers got food. It always smelled spicy. But as this was the more…modern bits of Wakanda, it lacked a lot of the social settings that Roscoe had come to love. If anything, he looked around and felt as if it had been to cater to the few outsiders that occasionally dwelled here. Although before the fallen Avengers had come here, it had pretty much been Roscoe.  
  
"Like mercs..." Clint murmured before visibly flinching. "Fuck, I didn't mean anything by that...."  
  
"It's okay," Roscoe said quietly, looking around for a moment. "Not everyone has the luxury of good morals." And he knew that before he had come to Wakanda, by chance, he had been something that people like SHIELD would have looked down on.  
  
"No...that's not..." Clint frowned as he sat down, holding his breath. "I didn't mean guys like you..."  
  
Roscoe smiled warmly as he looked at him, sitting down. "Clint..." he whispered softly, his green eyes shining. "It's okay. I don't take offence."  
  
"It's just...I think of you as a soldier," Clint shook his head, sighing at himself. "Mercs...I think about the people we've fought.”  
  
Roscoe chuckled as he watched him, his eyes gentle before he let out a breath. "Look...I suppose I could easily have ended up working for someone who you'd fight. I was lucky that the King spotted me and needed my...expertise."  
  
"Don't think you'd have let yourself work for those kind of people," Clint said quietly, but meaning it.  
  
Roscoe smiled weakly, holding his eyes before he let out a breath. "I am realistic, Clint. When I sold my services, I knew it wasn't always going to be to nice people."  
  
"But you're a nice person," Clint said quietly, shaking his head, but with a small smile.  
  
Roscoe smiled warmly, his eyes shining. "I try to be," he said and stood. "Let me get the food."  
  
"Thanks," Clint smiled as he moved away before shaking his head at himself with a frown. Way to mess that one up. He rubbed his forehead with the side of his hand, letting out a tight breath. The only person here who seemed interested in spending time with him and he managed to put his foot well and truly into his mouth.  
  
Roscoe smiled as he carried the food over to him, his eyes gentle. "So, there's a stew that they said wasn't too spicy...meaning it will be hot," he said playfully, watching him fondly.  
  
"Well that's okay with me, I like hot food, I'm just not at the locals' level yet," Clint admitted with a soft laugh, shaking his head. "Unless you want me to prove my manliness."  
  
Roscoe grinned as he shook his head, smiling. "I don't need that...I already know you are all man, Clint Barton..."  
  
Clint's eyes shone with the words and he couldn't help the smile that came with it. He tried the food with a soft moan, nodding. "Better than a 'bacon buttie'?"  
  
"Not quite," Roscoe said and smiled, his eyes warm before he leant closer. "I'll make you one, one day."  
  
"I'd like that," Clint watched him with a small smile. "Maybe you could even show me London?"  
  
"I'd like that, Clint," Roscoe said and smiled as he tried some of the food. "Show you my flat too. It's nothing special, but...home."  
  
"I'd like that," Clint said quickly, meeting his eyes before smiling softly at how quickly he'd said it. "I'd like that."  
  
Roscoe grinned, reaching for the drink. "Good," he said softly. He liked Clint and his company. More than he should, really...poor man didn't know how much he lusted over him.  
  
"I've never had chance to see it," Clint admitted, shaking his head lightly. "Suppose they've not needed our help," he chuckled.  
  
"We have our own...people," Roscoe said lightly, almost playfully. "They just didn't have someone with such a public...front."  
  
"Capes and gods and one men armies you mean?" he teased with a soft smile.  
  
"Sort of," Roscoe said and looked down, considering it. "We have people who move more in the shadows. Of great gifts..." he winked before sipping his drink. "Or maybe we just tell you guys that."  
  
"Well if we have 'enhanced' then you must have," Clint said quietly with a small smile, shaking his head. "According to some, they're lurking everywhere...."  
  
"You know, they go by many names too..." Roscow whispered softly, searching his eyes. "Mutants.  
  
"I've worked with some of those," Clint nodded, tucking into the stew with a small smile. "Usually more...part of them."  
  
"Depends on it, I've heard. Some pass as human, others...not as much," Roscoe said and smiled warmly, eating as well. "I am glad you're here, Clint."  
  
Clint looked to him with surprise at that, smiling. The only person he'd heard say that was the Cap...and well, he was pretty sure he'd say it to anyone, he was so damned polite. "Have to say, I'm glad you're here too," he said quietly. "Need someone to share a beer with...."  
  
Roscoe smiled as he watched him, his eyes gentle. "I enjoy that. In fact, we should do that tonight. Could come to my place if you want. I do have a kitchen!"  
  
"I'd love it," Clint grinned, watching him with warmth. "Don't get me wrong, Cap's a great guy, but...well, he can't get drunk...."  
  
"He can't...and it must be a bit like drinking with your grandfather," Roscoe said playfully, his eyes shining as he grinned. "What would you like for dinner?"  
  
"If I'm completely honest? I'm hankering for a burger," Clint chuckled, watching him with a small smile. He'd used to drink with Tony a lot. He'd missed that companionship.  
  
"I'll make you some," Roscoe said and nodded, his eyes warm at the idea of providing something Clint wanted for him. "I can do a burger."  
  
"Will it hurt your heart? To do something so American?" Clint teased with a soft smile, leaning to him.  
  
Roscoe laughed warmly, shaking his head. "No, besides...we do burgers where I am from. Do a lot of other things too, I'll make us a proper dessert too."  
  
"Now there's a promise," Clint whispered with a grin, searching his eyes with warmth.  
  
"An English one," Roscoe said and grinned, his eyes shining as he nodded, finishing his food with a soft sight. "That was nice though."  
  
"It was. A lot of things here are," Clint shook his head with a small smile. "T'Challa is....pretty amazing."  
  
"He is," Roscoe smiled fondly, nodding. "His father was a good man too, a good King. T'Challa though? He has fire and a gentle heart. A man of such passion, such responsibility. I respect him. The world should respect him for what he has done for his people."  
  
Clint nodded softly, glancing down. "And not too stubborn to change his mind when things go down a difficult road."  
  
Roscoe nodded as he watched him, his eyes gentle. "He relies on information to make decisions...not just his heart. If he gets new information, he will reconsider. A king must always be like that."  
  
"I don't envy him," Clint admitted with a small smile, shaking his head. "It's difficult enough deciding for yourself sometimes."  
  
"I agree," Roscoe chuckled as he finished his drink, considering it. "When I was in the military, it was easy. Do the job, make sure everything was done correctly...then special forces, where you had to think a bit more and make up your own mind..." he smiled gently as he volunteered the information to him. "It was better before politics took over everything and the media started poking their noses in more. I blame the internet."  
  
Clint searched his face for a long moment before nodding gently. "Truth is...when people are determined to cause trouble, things will get messy. So what...we're supposed to not save anyone because we can't everyone? That makes no sense. No fucking sense."  
  
"There is always a risk for loss of life. Yours. Civilians. If you try to save everyone, then...everyone dies," Roscoe whispered and looked down. "Risk nothing, gain nothing."  
  
Hawkeye sighed as he looked down, rubbing his forehead. "What the hell has happened...how....blind can people be?"  
  
Roscoe frowned and reached out, to touch the back of his neck. "Because people are people," he said quietly. "And all you can do is your best to make it all better."  
  
Clint looked to him with a frown, letting out a soft breath. "I don't know how to do that anymore," he admitted quietly.  
  
Roscoe studied his face before he smiled, stroking over his neck for a moment. "You do. Look, you've done a lot here. The kids love playing with you outside. And you have been training some of the teenagers with archery too. That has...done a lot."  
  
Clint smiled at that, meeting his eyes. "I love being with the kids," he admitted softly. "I...I don't know, it...just makes it feel better."  
  
"Makes things feel a lot better," Roscoe said and smiled as he studied Clint, just watching his face. He was a beautiful man when he smiled. And handsome when he didn't.  
  
Clint met his eyes at how he watched him, smiling softly as he shook his head. "Sorry, something I said?"  
  
"No," Roscoe let out a breath, shaking his head. Now came the difficult part. So he decided to play it safe and not scare the archer. "No, just...you, Clint. That's all...I like spending time with you."  
  
The blush came back at that and Clint chuckled at himself, shaking his head. "Same with you, Ro."  
  
"And that blush..."Roscoe whispered and leant closer, his eyes shining. "Clint, it's adorable."  
  
Clint looked to him with a strangely soft smile at that, laughing softly at himself. "I don't know what's wrong with me."  
  
Roscoe smiled as he held his eyes, his own gentle. "I rather like it," he said lightly. "So...when do you want to come over.  
  
"About 7 okay with you?" Clint asked with a small smile, shaking his head. "I promised to play some soccer at 6..."  
  
"Sounds good," he said and smiled warmly, nodding. He hadn't known Clint before, but...this seemed to be good for him. The children around, spending time with them. And he knew there was a lot going on with Barton. A lot of baggage for the Avenger. Well. Former Avenger? He wasn't sure. But he knew that if Clint needed a friend, needed someone to have his back, that he would do it in a heart beat. This crush he had on the man was...distracting. And yet he would not trade it for the world.  
  


 


	3. Now that your life's no longer empty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky cooks dinner. It's been awhile.

_Lay your weary head to rest_  
 _Don't you cry no more_ \- Kansas, 'Carry On My Wayward Son'  
  


* * *

Steve smiled gently as he watched Bucky move around the small kitchen area in his apartment on the compound, chuckling as he leant with his hip against a worktop. "I think this is the most use this kitchen has had."  
  
Bucky smiled warmly as he looked at him, his eyes gentle. He had put the meatloaf into the oven and was now working on the sides. Mashed potato and green beans...the usual things that went with one. He smiled gently, glancing over at him. "Maybe, but that is okay. I am sure the food they serve here is really nice. Exotic." He grinned and went to mash the potatoes, humming.  
  
"Absolutely," Steve agreed with a small smile. "But...I don't know. Maybe I'm still fighting for Mom's apple pie."  
  
Bucky chuckled softly, nodding at the words. "I miss that. Your Mom's apple pie..." he said and drained the beans, seasoning them. "There...just grab the meatloaf for me, and we're ready."  
  
Steve reached for the ovenmit, taking it out carefully, stealing a sniff of it with a soft groan. "Did you do this for many girls?" he asked, knowingly.  
  
"Usually I cooked breakfast," Bucky said as he smiled warmly, putting the sides on the table. "Always impressed them, a man who could cook..." he sat down, watching Steve. Knowing he was not a pure good little Catholic boy, despite his family being mostly Irish with a hint of Italian somewhere down on his mother’s side. Mostly Irish though. And God had been a large part of his upbringing. Yet he had never had that streak in him that Steve had, the whole…purity thing. He wondered, briefly, if that had changed for Steve. If he had been out with the dames, if he had spent the night in some woman’s bed, pressed against her, heavy petting and everything.  
  
Slight colour came to Steve's cheeks, knowing what cooking breakfast would have followed. He smiled weakly, nodding as he sat with him. "Not that they needed any encouragement."  
  
Steve smiled gently as he watched him, taking a breath as he motioned for him to help himself. "Some did," he said playfully before sighing. He suspected that if he had pulled the same tricks now that he had done back then, a dame would rightly have punched him in the jaw. Because truth be told, back then, while a smooth talker…he had been a bit of an asshole too. Taken them for granted, forgetting names and having Steve rescue him with the correct one. "A different time and world."  
  
"I don't think so," Steve said quietly, watching him. "It would be just the same now."  
  
Bucky smiled gently as he shook his head, watching him. "I've gotten...perspective..." he whispered softly. And the world had changed so much, Bucky wasn’t sure how he would be able to pick up a modern girl. What would he have talked about anyway? Back then, there were safe topics around women. Now, they knew so much. And he’d end up saying the wrong thing. Hell. A really bad day, and he would say it in a language they didn’t know. A heavily accented Russian, or a decent Romanian, German or maybe Italian if his brain got scrambled enough.  
  
Steve watched him with surprise, holding his breath. "Are you trying to tell me you're going to quit being a lady's man?"  
  
Bucky watched him before smiling weakly. "I think I stopped being that in '44..." he said gently, shaking his head.  
  
"I don't believe it," Steve teased with a soft chuckle, shaking his head. "You're a regular heart breaker..."  
  
Bucky held his eyes before he let out a soft breath. "Steve, I..." he looked down, frowning. "I couldn't go back to being with those girls."  
  
Steve watched with surprise, holding his breath before reaching out to touch his arm. "Sorry...did I say something wrong?" he asked softly. He'd always teased him about his girls....Bucky had always laughed at it and played the big ladies man. And for him, it helped ease the ache at seeing him with them all.  
  
Bucky met his eyes, searching them. "No, Steve...you didn't. Just...I'm different. I couldn't do the pillow talk now...or listen to them yammer on about how hard nylons are to get or that they weren't allowed to use hairpins at work because of the fire hazard...it's..." he let out a breath before grinning. "Hey, does this look familiar? I tried to recreate what we ate at Meitz's Restaurants on your last birthday. Meatloaf was their special of the day...”  
  
Steve looked to the food with surprise, smiling at realising he was right. "Not a bad memory for an old man," he teased, but with a fond smile. He tried some, moaning as he closed his eyes. "Bucky...this is perfect...."  
  
Bucky smiled warmly, relieved, nodding before he started eating. "That was a good day," he said after awhile. "You insisted we caught the Newsreel. And then we walked in the sunshine for hours, just slowly and chatting. And then this meal..."  
  
Steve looked down at the food with a soft smile, his eyes distant for a long moment. "It was so peaceful," he said quietly.  
  
"We could put the war out of our minds. It was my aim that day...wanted you carefree," Bucky whispered and reached out, touching his hand on impulse. He wanted to touch Steve, it had become a thing for him now. A physical reminder he was truly here, with Steve, and it wasn’t some dream.  
  
"I was," Steve smiled gently, holding his eyes, his hand turning up to his. "It was like when we were kids."  
  
Bucky smiled as he nodded, searching his eyes. "Felt good. It felt good to...be with you." The words were honest but a bit hesitant. As if admitting it was a weakness. Perhaps it was, but it was a weakness that belonged to James Buchanan Barnes, not the Winter Soldier.  
  
"Always felt good to be with you," Steve said quietly, shaking his head. "Safe."  
  
Bucky frowned at the words, letting out a breath. "I want it to still be like that, Steve..." he said before letting go of his hand to start eating again.  
  
"It is," Steve said quietly, watching him before giving a small smile. He ate, sighing warmly with it. "This...is everything good about the world."  
  
Bucky smiled warmly, watching Steve with love. "Maybe," he said with warmth, shaking his head. "But it's certainly good to see you eat. There's loads left."  
  
"Just as well," Stevee laughed, looking to him with shining eyes. "You should have seen us after we took out Loki and those aliens...we demolished a restaurant."  
  
Bucky smiled at the words, his eyes gentle. "I can imagine that..." he said before tilting his head. "You have to tell me about it all. Your adventures."  
  
Steve glanced to him, searching his eyes before smiling weakly. "It didn't last long."  
  
"Lasted longer than most," Bucky said firmly, holding his eyes with meaning. "It's okay, you know. To be sad about it. Even with no regrets." Because is Steve was still like Steve had used to be, then he would be pushing things down, away, for the sake of a greater team.  
  
"I don't regret what I did," Steve said softly as he watched him. "It was the right thing to do. I just regret that it had to come to that."  
  
Bucky smiled weakly, looking down as he remembered the fight. "You used to say that in Brooklyn, what you told Stark. You could do it all day. Never surrendering." And hearing it, seeing Steve stand there, bleeding and saying it…it meant so much to him. And at the same time, it was…strange. It had been so strange.  
  
Steve smiled softly, searching his eyes as he let out a soft breath. "It was the right thing to do then too."  
  
Bucky smiled weakly, holding his for a moment at the words before chuckled softly. "It...reminded me of the old times though." The words came out slowly though, his eyes going down to his plate before he looked back at Steve.  
  
"Is that good or bad?" Steve whispered softly, searching his eyes.  
  
"Good," Bucky nodded as he held his eyes, searching his face. "It is good, Steve." And it was all he could do to not start talking more, to drag up the memories that had at one point forced him to bed, crying at the strength of them, the emotions they had dragged up.  
  
"Is it wrong? To...long for that? It's a waste of time, I know, but....I still think about it. A lot," Steve said softly.  
  
Bucky smiled as he watched him, nodding gently. "So do I. A lot," he said and looked down. "I've gotten to relive it all when the memories broke through."  
  
Steve reached out, gripping his wrist with pain. "I would take every one of them down if I could."  
  
Bucky looked at the hand on his wrist, smiling gently. "No, it...those moments, the memories...they were the good things," he said as he met his eyes, becoming serious as he held his eyes firmly. The look he had used to give him whenever Steve wasn’t listening to things that were for his own good. Like seeing a doctor, or taking the medicine. "Got to start letting it go. Both of us have to."  
  
"Maybe I don't want to," Steve whispered, looking down with guilt at the words. "Maybe I don't want to let it go...a time without all this, where it was just you and me."  
  
Bucky watched him before smiling warmly. "Not the memories, or the time without this. I meant Hydra," he whispered before the smile became a grin. "I can never let go of us."  
  
Steve smile warmed at that too, his hand squeezing his. "Good. I was worried there for a minute."  
  
Bucky chuckled warmly, nodding before he finished eating. "Want any more?" he asked, grinning at the cleared plate in front of Steve. He had never seen that before. Not at a table anyway. The times with the Howling Commandos didn’t count, they all ate all their rations despite the taste. This was…them…at a kitchen table…eating together and here was Steve Rogers with an empty plate and a big smile. He felt oddly proud.  
  
"I'll save some for the middle of the night," Steve whispered with a soft laugh, holding his eyes, feeling more like...himself.  
  
Bucky grinned and nodded, standing as he moved to clear the table. "I'll put it in the fridge. You got bread and ketchup...meatloaf sandwich."  
  
"Perfect," Steve watched him with awe, laughing warmly. "Inside the head of Captain America, hm?"  
  
"Steve Rogers," Bucky corrected before leaning to kiss his hair, unable to stop the gesture from when he had been the strongest out of them physically.  
  
Steve closed his eyes, his breath catching as he leant into it, wanting the moment to himself. "I've missed you so much," he whispered, unable to stop the words. "It was like my soul was gone."  
  
Bucky swallowed at the words, his hand touching his throat for a moment, stroking gently, not even registering it was his left one. "Oh Steve...it's never that bad...I am here now."

 

* * *

 


End file.
